


All That is Noble and Fair

by safarialuna



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Canon Era, Episode: s01e05 Lancelot, Exasperated Gaius, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hugs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Arthur, M/M, Magic, Merlin Canon Fest, Multi, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Merlin, POV Merlin, Pining, Pining Merlin, Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur, Relationship Advice, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarialuna/pseuds/safarialuna
Summary: Merlin continues to hide his magic from Arthur while saving his royal backside, but everything changes when Merlin meets Lancelot, a wandering man who dreams of becoming a knight of Camelot. Merlin struggles with his growing one-sided attraction towards Lancelot as he risks everything to bends the rules, and Arthur attempts to comfort Merlin and maybe falls a little in love along the way. (Gaius is exasperated, if anyone wants to know.)A story of love and friendship, awkward conversations and hugs, where all that is noble and fair might not be written in a royal decree.Written forMerlin Canon Fest 2017on Livejournal





	All That is Noble and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on s01e05: Lancelot. 
> 
> A big thank you to goldenapple for the beta work! Any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Merlin had only been looking for mushrooms.

Typically, he’d have no problem in the woods looking for plants and herbs. He’d slip through the trees, unseen by bandits and creatures, grab Gaius' provision requests, and head back.

Typically.

Apparently, after mucking the stables, cleaning Arthur’s chainmail, and collecting mushrooms for tonight’s stew, fate decided today’s course would be a bit different.

For Merlin, who lived a life full of secrets and sorcery, he shouldn’t have been surprised when a winged animal came chasing after him, crashing through the trees. 

When protecting Arthur was one’s destiny, one learned to roll with each twist and turn of the day. 

“ _Scildan!_ ” Merlin cried as he tripped over a fallen root. The creature was unlike anything Merlin had ever seen—its head and wings were that of a eagle’s, but its hind legs and tail were that of a lion’s. 

The half-eagle, half-lion reared, its talons easily slicing through Merlin’s magic. The shield Merlin conjured shattered into fragments of light.

Merlin’s heart plummeted as he came to the realisation that even his magic, as powerful as it was, couldn’t help him. 

Merlin raised his arm in defence as the creature screeched, its claws poised for another strike, when suddenly a man charged towards it. With a battle cry, the man slashed his sword through the air to fend off the beast. 

Merlin could only stare in disbelief.

“Run!” the man shouted, turning to grab Merlin’s arm as they fled.

Both of them hid behind a fallen log, their breath ragged from running. The creature’s cries faded as it flew away. 

“You…you saved my life. Who are you?” Merlin asked. 

“I’m Lancelot,” the man replied. “I could ask you the same. You are with magic.”

Merlin froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” Lancelot held up a hand, moving his fingers as he whispered, “Scildan.” He turned to look at Merlin and a small smile curved his lips.

Merlin’s eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Lancelot waved a hand in a placating gesture and said, “Don’t worry—your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell a soul…ah. What was your name?”

 _It’s over_ , Merlin thought. Someone knew about his magic. Someone who he didn’t know at all, who’d saved his life, accepted he had magic and promised not to tell. 

Lies. He didn’t believe any of it, but what if—what if Lancelot could be trusted?

Merlin willed himself to just breathe. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, Lancelot was still sitting there, without a trace of malice in his eyes, waiting patiently. 

“Merlin. I’m…Merlin.” He hoped to all the gods Lancelot wasn’t another enemy, and he was someone Merlin could trust. “You really won’t tell?”

Lancelot held out his hand, raising his eyebrows.

Merlin grasped it and felt the warmth flood his fingers. He hadn’t realised his hands had grown so cold. 

After giving Merlin’s hand a firm shake, Lancelot said, “Only if you wanted me to, Merlin. Which I assume you don’t, since Camelot forbids any and all magic.”

At Lancelot’s remark, he could only laugh weakly.

*

Merlin did not particularly enjoy being chased by eagle-lion creatures, but meeting Lancelot was one of the most enjoyable things that had happened to him in weeks. Maybe even the past year. 

Lancelot reminded Merlin of the tapestries that hung in the castle. Valiant knights woven into the fabric—into history—becoming pillars of everything a person should value and uphold. 

Upon hearing Lancelot express interest in joining the Knights of Camelot, Merlin couldn’t help but think it a perfect fit. The courage and kindness he’d seen in Lancelot when he’d first met him proved him as worthy to defend Camelot and its king as anyone. Merlin sighed as he imagined Lancelot donned in Pendragon red. He’d see Lancelot every day, someone who shared his secret and who wouldn’t use it against him. At least he fervently hoped as much.

Just as soon as he’d had them, his daydreams cemented themselves as only just that. After talking to Arthur of Lancelot’s fine qualities, Merlin learnt only noblemen could become knights. It was the First Code of Camelot. 

Breaking it to Lancelot that he could not become a knight would not be easy. But maybe he didn’t have to.

“They’re going to love you,” Merlin said to Lancelot in Gaius’ chambers.

Lancelot flexed his arm, looking out the window. He’d promptly passed out from blood loss due to the injury on his arm that he’d received from fighting the griffin. Merlin had been able to stuff only a handful of mushrooms in his neckerchief, which all spilt out as he limped with him back to the castle. 

Gaius had looked at Merlin with exasperation when Merlin had dragged Lancelot half-conscious into his chambers. “Leave it to you to go looking for mushrooms and come back with more trouble,” he’d said.

Gaius’ complaints ended at that, and he'd worked with his usual efficiency. The gash wasn’t as severe as Merlin’d thought, but it did take a couple weeks to heal.

Which was plenty of time for Lancelot to become the epitome of Merlin’s late-night fantasies of chivalrous knights. 

“You really think they’ll love me?” Lancelot seemed unsure as he unravelled the bandaging on his arm, but Merlin could see a quiet hope in his eyes.

“I’m sure.” _I’ve only just met you and I’m already quite fond of you_ , Merlin almost said. He bit his tongue and one of Gaius’ bottles caught his eye. It was filled with a yellow liquid with flecks of rusty brown. If he remembered right, it was a truth serum of sorts.

In Camelot, many possessed a hidden agenda to get close to the King and Arthur. _I have to be vigilant_ , he thought suddenly.

No. Lancelot he could trust. He had not told anyone about Merlin’s magic and he’d done nothing but enthrall anyone he’d met into their confidences as a kind and shrewd man. 

Merlin suspected his exceeding handsomeness contributed as well. 

“I’d best go train if I’m going to become a knight,” Lancelot said as he headed for the door. Grabbing his sword belt, he paused. “Thank you.”

Gaius walked in just as Lancelot left.

“I know you want to impress Lancelot,” Gaius said, resting his satchel on the table, “but you can’t grant favors you won’t be able to keep.”

Merlin winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gaius said. 

*

Despite Gaius’ warnings, Merlin forged a seal of nobility using a bit of magic. Lancelot was, by all appearances, a son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria. With the seal, Lancelot could try out as a knight of Camelot. 

The hard bit was convincing Lancelot.

“You’ll do great,” Merlin urged as he handed over the scroll, pleasure at being able to help Lancelot bubbling up within him. 

“This isn’t right,” Lancelot said as took the seal and scanned it. “ _Fifth_ son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria? I cannot lie.”

“You mustn’t think of it that way. You’ve seen them practice—you can match any of those men in skill. No doubt you could surpass them in your courage and loyalty.” 

Lancelot’s brows knitted together in frustration, clearly torn. Merlin closed the distance between them and placed a tentative hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. 

“For what it’s worth, if there is anyone who can change the law, so other brave men can serve their king, it’s you.”

Lancelot blinked, as if pulled out of a reverie. Then he gazed at Merlin, his eyes searching. Passion seemed to blossom there. And trust. 

Merlin’s heart thudded in his chest as he released his grip on Lancelot. “But what do I know—I’m just a servant.”

“You sell yourself short,” Lancelot said. “You’ve helped me on my path to become a future knight of Camelot.”

“So then you’ll—”

Lancelot nodded, excited. “Yes…I will.”

“Excellent! Next, I think, you need to look the part. Attire-wise. Look-wise, you’re perfectly fine. Exceptional, even.” Merlin cringed inwardly, his secret, vague lusting over Lancelot’s gentleness and smouldering eyes turning not-so-secret. 

Lancelot raised a perfectly fine eyebrow and Merlin felt his face heat. 

“Can you forget that I said that?” Merlin whispered.

Lancelot just laughed. 

*

Introducing Lancelot to Gwen proved to be one of his more terrible ideas.

Merlin pretended to be interested in the cuffs of his tunic as his gaze darted back and forth between Lancelot and Gwen. 

Gwen and Lancelot seemed to click, like something out of an epic romance. He was happy Lancelot was getting along with everyone—of course he is, he’s Lancelot—but the atmosphere was thick with… _something_ , so much so that he wanted to leave the room.

“…it was so kind of Merlin to do this for you. He’ll help anyone in need,” Gwen said warmly as she proceeded to take measurements of Lancelot’s thigh—almost touching his groin—and Merlin couldn’t help but put a hand over his face and roll his eyes skyward in agony. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Lancelot said, peering down at Gwen. “Merlin’s proven to be a valuable friend.”

Merlin’s head snapped up, hand falling to his lap. Lancelot looked his way and nodded. “If it weren’t for him, I’d be a wandering man, unable to pursue my dreams of protecting this land for the sake of her people.”

Friend? Merlin had only known him a mere fortnight and they were friends? Merlin felt a spark of joy.

Gwen laughed as she stood, reaching around Lancelot’s middle. “You’ll be quite the knight, Sir Lancelot, I can understand why you wanted to become one. You’re perfect. I mean—perfect for the role. Um…”

“I believe I understand. Thank you, but I’ve not earned that title yet.” Lancelot scratched his head. “To be honest, I’m nervous that I’ll fail.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to fashion suitable attire for the knight-to-be that will inspire…confidence, or something.” Gwen shook her head, embarrassed, and rolled up her measuring tape. 

“Thank you, My Lady,” Lancelot said as he reached out to take Gwen’s hand.

“I’m not a—” Gwen started but then Lancelot proceeded to reach down and plant a kiss atop her hand.

“In my eyes, you are.”

 _Rip_. Merlin looked down and realised he’d torn the hem of his tunic three inches up.

*

“Are you and Gwen…you know,” Lancelot hedged as they walked down a corridor of the castle after they’d left Gwen’s house.

“What?” Merlin turned his head and schooled his face into the most innocent expression he could manage.

“You know…”

“Are we friends? Yes,” Merlin replied briskly.

“So you’re not…”

“No.”

Lancelot seemed visibly relieved and Merlin smiled back, squinting his eyes in what he hoped was mirth and not annoyance.

When Merlin went to the stables, alone, he felt like ripping his shirt in half.

*

“Merlin!” Arthur barked from behind his dressing screen.

“Yes, Sire?”

“You’ve been acting quite strange these past few days.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sire.”

Arthur stepped out from behind the screen, wearing only his breeches. He put his hands on his hips and gave him his signature princely smug. “Come off it, Merlin. Ever since Lancelot started his training to become a knight, your mood has been mercurial. And—why are you wearing _that_?”

“What—” Merlin looked down. He was wearing the torn shirt. He hadn’t fixed it yet.

“That shirt! It’s in desperate need of mending and you’ve worn it for _at least_ four days. What about the red shirt? The blue one is becoming a sight for sore eyes.”

“Sire, you—you’ve noticed what I’ve been wearing?” Merlin scrunched up his face. “Usually you don’t even give that much attention to your history lessons—”

“Hold your tongue!” Arthur cried out. A faint flush tinged his cheeks, Merlin noticed. “It’s my duty to make sure my servants are at their best, though I shouldn’t have to put too much effort into the task if the servant is good enough. Apparently, you need special help.” 

Merlin scoffed and hastily grabbed Arthur’s armour and garments that were strewn about the floor, heaving them into his arms. “Fine, I’ll change my shirt. We have nothing more to talk about.”

“Sit.”

“You always insist we're not friends.”

“We’re not. But sit down,” Arthur said, and when Merlin sat begrudgingly at the table, “All right. Out with it. Did you and Lancelot quarrel?”

“No.”

“There’s not much reason for you to be angry with him, anyway. He’ll become excellent knight.”

Merlin couldn’t say much. He didn’t want to reveal his own frustration at Lancelot’s interest in Gwen, so he just stared at the reeking clothes in his hands. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, frustration making him grit his teeth. “I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Can I go now?”

Arthur sauntered over to Merlin. He smirked. “Don’t tell me you fancy him.”

Merlin gaped. 

Arthur hadn’t yet realised Merlin’s shock, so he continued, smiling like the cat got the cream. “He's quite handsome, isn’t he? But rules are rules, so you’ll have to find some nice girl…” 

At this point, Merlin covered his face with his hot and clammy hands. He wanted to disappear through the stone of the castle and sink into the earth and become one with nature. 

He’d spend the rest of his days as a jovial rock, soaking in the sun. Or just stay deep underground. It would be much better than embarrassing himself with his personal feelings in front of royal prats. 

“Look at me,” Arthur said. “You can’t be serious. I’m only joking.” Arthur clamped on to Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin!”

Arthur pried Merlin’s hands away. Merlin’s face red and wet with tears, Arthur’s a blotchy pink, they blinked at each other, only inches apart. 

Merlin’s palms felt sweaty, and he had an unbearable urge to wipe them on his breeches. But he couldn’t move from Arthur’s grip and look away. 

He didn’t want to. 

At this proximity, Merlin noticed insignificant details that somehow seemed at that moment to be the most important discoveries in the world. On Arthur’s left cheek were two small moles. Arthur’s hair was not just blond—it was the colour of wheat mixed with flaxen strands. It reminded Merlin of running through the fields back at home, his fingers brushing along each plant that turned golden when the light hit it just right—

Arthur’s lips moved and words came out, but Merlin couldn’t register them.

“What?” All of a sudden Arthur was moving away from him. 

Arthur pointed to the door. “I command you to leave!” His eyes blazed with heat. 

Merlin scrambled for the dirty clothing and stumbled out of his chair. 

He ran out the door and down the corridor, the feeling of Arthur’s fingers still branded on his wrists. 

*

Merlin and Arthur never spoke of what happened that day. It was just as well, Merlin thought, because he never wanted to talk of it. Or think of it, but that he knew was impossible. He couldn’t see Arthur, whom he served day in and day out, without remembering how lost he’d felt in those few seconds. When he’d ran out of the room that night, he dumped the dirty laundry in a pile at the foot of his bed and stared at the ceiling until dawn, not sure what anything meant but too confused to feel calm about it. 

Besides, if things had been any more prolonged—whatever that thing was—he’d probably have got scolded for being a slow and inefficient servant. Though, Merlin recalled, Arthur hadn’t yelled at him for weeks. The only contact they had was strictly necessary as Merlin did his job, and even then, Arthur didn’t say much. 

Maybe something good came out of it after all. 

When Lancelot finally became a knight, the celebration held in his honour flourished into a joyous occasion with lively music and plenty of alcohol. It seemed to brightened everyone’s spirits. 

Everyone except Merlin, that is.

Merlin resigned himself to the corner and sipped his mead. He continued to stare at Lancelot and Arthur, who were speaking together with their heads close together, already like brothers. Arthur hadn’t stopped smiling and patted Lancelot on the back multiple times throughout the evening. All the while, Lancelot kept glancing over towards Gwen. Gwen hung around Morgana, but her gaze lingered on Lancelot. 

Despite the heated looks from either side, neither of them seemed to be aware of the other’s feelings. 

It was all so painfully obvious and Merlin hated it. 

“You know, Merlin, this is a celebration,” Gaius said, popping up next to Merlin. 

“Don’t even start.”

“You're handling this quite well.”

Merlin drank the rest of his tankard. He slammed it down on a nearby table. “It’s what I’ve wanted, Gaius. Lancelot’s a knight and...he’ll do great.” 

“Yes, and you disregarded all my warnings,” Gaius said. He grabbed a tankard from a server and his eyes fixed on Gwen. “A knight of Camelot can never be with a servant.”

“You see it too? How Gwen keeps looking at Lancelot—”

“I was talking about you, my dear boy.” Gaius turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no.” Merlin laughed and looked at Lancelot across the hall and then at Gaius. “You can’t be serious…except you are.”

Gaius nodded. 

“But—how—forget it. By the end of the week everyone will know I fell for the new knight of Camelot.” Merlin looked at his reflection in his mead. It really did look pathetic.

“Don’t be overdramatic, Merlin. I notice these things. Now I suggest you enjoy yourself on this festive occasion and congratulate Lancelot.” Gaius took a healthy swig of his tankard—which Merlin had never seen him do before and it startled him—and turned away. “Don’t avoid him,” he called back. 

*

By the time Merlin made his way to Lancelot, he was thoroughly, but quite pleasantly, drunk. Arthur excused himself to chat with some other knights, irritatingly full of mirth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as noble-hearted as you,” Merlin said, his words slurring a bit. They were finally alone, and nothing but praise seemed to spill out of his mouth. Less-Drunk Merlin would have said a simple ‘well done’ and disappeared into the festivities to furtively gorge on fine cheeses. Drunk Merlin, however, had plans of lavishing Lancelot with every commendation that came to mind. 

“You’re far too kind Merlin,” Lancelot said, shaking his head.

Merlin had never met anyone so full of ambition, purpose—all for the greater good.

“No, you’re too perfect.” Merlin couldn’t help but laugh, which turned into a loud hiccup.

“That’s untrue. I have many…weaknesses.”

“Oh, really? Such as?”

“I’m not fearless. I fear rejection from someone I love.”

“I couldn’t imagine anyone turning down your affections. Take Gwen for example.”

Lancelot started to cough uncontrollably. Merlin placed a hand on Lancelot’s back now adorned in red with embroidered gold. It made his insides even more fluttery. 

“Why do you mention Gwen, of all people?” Lancelot asked after he could speak again. 

“Do you not enjoy her presence? Her beauty? Her kindness and righteousness?”

Lancelot frowned. “Merlin, are you interested in her?”

“No! I’m saying I understand how you do.” Merlin released his hand from Lancelot.

“Oh,” Lancelot said. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

After a silence in which Merlin spent enjoying Lancelot’s discomposure, Lancelot spoke again, his voice only a mumble. “Your intentions towards Guinevere are…”

“Completely of a friendly nature, I assure you.”

Lancelot sighed, all the tension in his shoulders released in the movement. “She is lovely, isn’t she? But it can never happen.”

“Of course it can happen. The way she looks at you tells me” —Merlin’s heart wrenched but the words kept coming, the unavoidable truth—“there’s clearly something special there.”

Lancelot’s eyes grew wide. Then he looked more sullen than Merlin had seen him in weeks. “All the worse. Camelot does not allow it.”

“Do you not realise what you just did today? You made history.” Merlin bumped Lancelot’s shoulder. “I don’t see why you can’t do it again. Besides, Arthur might grow up one of these days and become a great king. He’ll create a Camelot where anyone can become a knight, and marriage holds no bounds.”

“And magic?” Lancelot whispered, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Would magic be allowed in this new Camelot?”

“I can only hope,” Merlin replied. His magic sang under his skin just at the thought of such a future. 

“I think I’m going to have a chat with Gwen,” Lancelot said. “Thank you.”

Merlin watched as all that was noble and fair, the knight of his affections, walked away. 

As the sound of Lancelot’s footsteps melted away into the din of the celebration, Merlin turned towards the musicians. His toe tapped and he hummed along to their deft twirls of music, and he used every ounce of his willpower not to look the other way. He wanted to be happy for Lancelot, but his heart felt like it was tearing and he could hear every rip. 

He didn’t want to see the last chance he’d had with Lancelot disappear right before his eyes. 

“Now you’re enjoying the celebration,” a smug voice said from behind him. 

“Arthur! Um, Sire.” Merlin almost dropped his drink as he turned around. He blamed his clumsiness on the room being at a slight tilt. The world strangely did that when he drank. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said. He looked down at the puddle of drink Merlin had spilt. “Servants should not be drinking. They should be serving.”

“I’m not a normal servant. I’m yours.”

“Exactly. Shouldn’t you be attending to my every need?” Arthur lifted his own drink higher and raised his eyebrows.

Merlin’s gaze went beyond Arthur to Lancelot. Gwen laughed, her cheeks dusted pink with merriment, her hand placed firmly on Lancelot’s arm. Lancelot smiled and stepped closer, like they were in their own world and it was already happening, they were already in lo—

“Merlin.”

Merlin flinched and his focus snapped back to Arthur. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Arthur sighed. “I know you are…upset. I should not have teased you that night. I didn’t really think—”

“That what? That I couldn’t fall in love with someone that wasn’t a peasant?” Merlin hissed. For all Arthur knew, Lancelot was of noble blood. 

Arthur shook his head. His eyes firmly fixed on Merlin. “That’s not it.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

“No matter what the law is,” Arthur said, his tone low but deep with honesty, “your feelings are not wrong.”

Merlin snorted. “So you’re saying if I fell in love with the King himself, it would not be wrong?”

“I suppose not.” Arthur smirked. “Although, I’m not sure if my father would reciprocate.”

Merlin glared at Arthur, and they both broke into laughter. 

As Merlin wiped away his tears, he realised he felt lighter than he’d been in weeks.

The next morning, however, everything fell apart. 

*

Merlin should have known that Uther would find out the seal had been forged. 

“If anyone has taught me that where one comes from should not dictate one’s worth, it is you,” Lancelot said as he sat on the cold floor of the dungeon cell. 

Merlin clenched his fists as he watched Lancelot—he looked pale, but resolved. 

And it was all Merlin’s fault. 

“I should have never forged the seal. I’m sorry, I—”

“I agreed to break the code willingly, and you are not to blame.”

Merlin shook his head and walked up to Lancelot. “I can fix this. I’ll find a way.” Merlin looked up at the sun filtering through the cell bars.

“The burden is mine to bear,” Lancelot said. He bent down on one knee and grasped Merlin’s hand firmly. “Let me say this, Merlin—I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

*

Mere hours later, the same half-eagle, half-lion creature that had attacked Merlin appeared in Camelot. King Uther and Arthur had been tracking it, anticipating its movements to put an end to its carnage. Outlying villages had fallen prey to its hunger as the beast made its way south towards Camelot. 

The creature, which Gaius had discovered to be a griffin, appeared to only have a taste for human flesh.

The griffin arrived within the city’s walls and left many severely wounded. Arthur’s voice rang through the corridors once the crisis had been averted, ordering the knights to prepare for a council with his father.

Once Gaius learnt it could only be felled by strong magic, he warned Uther and Arthur, but to no avail: Tonight, Arthur would attempt to kill the beast. And most certainly die trying.

The night fast approaching, Merlin arrived late to serve Arthur his meal. He’d pored over mountains of books with Gaius to find the spell to defeat the griffin, but had yet to find the proper one. Gaius had suggested he take a small reprieve and serve Arthur his supper.

Merlin tip-toed into Arthur’s chambers and placed the plate of chicken and grapes on the table as gently as he could. His fingers slipped and the plate clattered, mostly intact save for an errant grape. He stooped down and snatched it, shoving it in his pocket just as Arthur came into the room. 

Arthur tossed his gloves on to the table and slumped into his chair. He stared at his food. “You may leave,” he said. “Tonight, I will ride with my men and defeat the griffin.”

“You know what Gaius said. Only magic can kill the creature.”

“We do not have magic at our disposal. The creature cannot be allowed to torment our citizens any longer.” Arthur’s hands gripped the table and his knuckles turned white. “The strength of mortal sinew will have to suffice. It must.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” Merlin walked up to Arthur, who looked up at him, pain and anger glittering in his eyes. “You will die tonight.” 

_Unless I can do something about it_ , Merlin thought. 

“Sometimes sacrifices are necessary,” Arthur said. “I thought you knew that.”

“I know more than you give me credit for. At the least, Arthur, let me come with you.” If he didn’t find a way to defeat the beast, his destiny would be doomed, his mission failed—

“Do you love him?” Arthur asked quietly. 

“Lancelot?” Merlin’s heart jolted. “I…I do.”

“I see,” Arthur said, still not touching his food.

“Sire—”

Arthur turned in his chair to face Merlin, his hand raised as if to touch Merlin, but instead he clenched it into a fist. “If I die, I want you to be happy. Lancelot will be a free man, I promise you that you can be with him—”

Merlin shook his head frantically, vexation bubbling up within him. “It’s over, Arthur. He’s in love with Gwen, and if he ever gets out of this mess, I want him to be happy with her.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” Arthur placed his clenched hand under his chin, nonchalant. 

“No.”

“You should. It might surprise you how many people fall in love with idiots.”

Merlin gave him a look.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Arthur said and stood. He grabbed his gloves and disappeared down the corridor before Merlin could string two thoughts together.

Merlin could not recall a time when Arthur had been so selfless. 

And now it would be the last, unless he found the correct spell.

*

“How many books on magic do you have, Gaius?” Merlin tugged at his hair in frustration. He hadn’t found a single lead on how to defeat the beast.

Stacks of books Merlin had never seen before seemed to appear out of thin air and cover the tables and floor—dusty tomes with red ink bleeding into the pages covered in black cloth that shimmered; small, flimsy volumes that still had spiders crawling along the edges, spinning their webs; and exquisite filigreed grimoires with gems embedded in the cover that shined dully when one touched them. 

“I would say enough, but one never has such a number.” Gaius calmly turned the page of another book, peering through his lens. 

After a while, Gaius broke the silence. “While you may have not listened to me once in this whole disaster, let me say this: I’m proud of you.”

Merlin rubbed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. He’d been so naive. “I just wanted to help Lancelot.”

“And you have. Your actions were indeed hasty when you forged that seal. But the love you’ve shown towards him cannot be denied.” Gaius folded his hands, and looked kindly at Merlin. “Sometimes, true love is letting someone be with someone else.”

Merlin could only blink as the tears fell, hot against his cheeks.

“Come, now. I think I’ve found the spell,” Gaius said. “We need to use this to make a weapon powerful enough to defeat the griffin.”

“I’ve never successfully used an enchantment this powerful.”

“Think of Arthur. You’re the only one who can save him.”

*

Hours past. Merlin’s body was drenched in sweat, and his head was ringing. Arthur and the knights had already left. Precious seconds ticked by as Merlin tried over and over to perfect the spell. 

“ _Bregdan anweald gafeluec!_ ” 

The rusty blade that he’d been practicing on did not so much as glimmer. 

Merlin fell back on the chair beneath him and let his head hit the table. “Gaius…it’s not working.”

“You must keeping trying—”

Gwen barged in, her chest was heaving with exertion and her eyes frantic. “Lancelot’s gone to kill the beast!”

Merlin stood so abruptly the chair clattered to the floor. “How did he get out?”

Gwen bit her lip.“I think he said something about Arthur, but I don’t know.”

“The time has come, Merlin,” Gaius said. “I have faith in you.” He rested a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Merlin nodded, his palms sweaty and shaking. 

Merlin ran out of the castle and to the lower town. His body felt alight emotions—as he passed patrols, the moon spilling on to every surface like a silvery gauze, his thoughts weren’t filled of Lancelot.

Strangely, he couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur and his act of kindness.

What filled his heart and exhilarated him was Arthur had kept his promise. In the midst of everything, Arthur had cared about Merlin’s happiness. He had seen the good in Lancelot and let him go. 

Electricity seemed to spark and fizzle through his veins as he knew that Arthur was on the path to becoming the Once and Future King. The one who would unite all the land of Albion. His compassion for his friends was proof of that.

Merlin spotted Lancelot adjusting the reins of his horse and ran towards him. When he was close enough, he asked, “Why are you here? You cannot defeat this griffin alone.”

“I’m here to do what is right. You cannot stop me, Merlin.”

“If you aren’t turning back…let me come with you. I think I might be able to help.”

*

Merlin and Lancelot rode out into the forest. They heard clangs of metal sing through the air mixed with the cries of men and urged their horses to increase the pace. 

They dismounted as quietly as they could. In the forest, the air chilled Merlin’s bones. Thick fog swirled around them, obscuring their view. When they followed the screeching of the griffin through an opening in the trees, the ground was scattered with the bodies of fallen men. 

Merlin darted around, searching for Arthur, the blood pounding in his ears. He finally spotted Arthur lying on the ground. He ran past Lancelot and kneeled down beside Arthur. He was breathing. A wave of relief shook Merlin. “He’s alive, Lancelot.”

Above him, the griffin let out a piercing cry, unseen in the trees. Merlin crouched down by Arthur’s side and Lancelot ran back to ready his horse. 

Appearing through a veil of smoke, the griffin appeared. It spotted Merlin and charged towards him.

Merlin knew his typical magic was not enough. He needed to get the enchantment right. He chanted the words in his mind, let himself feel them. 

Behind him, he heard the stamping of hooves. With a hand on Arthur’s head, he turned to see Lancelot steadying his horse. With his spear poised, the moon casting him in a halo of light, Lancelot looked like a true knight. With a yell, he began to charge forward on his mount. 

Merlin ran out into the path of the griffin. He turned to Lancelot and raised his hand. 

He would put his heart and soul into enchanting the spear so Lancelot would live.

“ _Bregdan anweald gafeluec._ ”

Nothing. Lancelot thundered past him on his horse, mere seconds away from colliding with the griffin. Merlin shook his head and adjusted his stance.

He pulled—drawing on his magic from the bottom of his core, dredging up every drop of his power as he cried the words to protect his home, to protect Arthur—

“ _Bregdan anweald gafeluec!_ ” he yelled.

Blue flames rippled and crackled along the spear and engulfed it in a dazzling energy. Lancelot never slowed as charged full-speed towards the creature. The griffin shrieked as it crashed to the ground, dead. 

“You did it!” Merlin cried and pumped a fist into the air. 

Lancelot took off his helmet and grinned at Merlin.

Arthur moaned in pain. Merlin and Lancelot looked at each other for a moment in panic. Lancelot nodded. He knew Arthur couldn't see Merlin here.

Merlin ran back towards the castle, his blood coursing with energy and his heart filled with joy.

The kingdom was safe. 

*

Lancelot heard Arthur defend him as worthy enough to serve as a knight, but he felt guilty about not truly defeating the griffin. Despite Merlin’s insisting, he decided to leave. 

Lancelot bid his farewells following the council. Merlin stood just outside the castle’s walls and watched as Lancelot mounted his horse. The wind ruffled Merlin’s hair and stung his cheeks. 

“I wish I could stay here with Gwen and all of you,” Lancelot said, “spending my days as a knight until my time on this world ends. But I believe my fate is not so simple. Don’t you?”

“But couldn’t you stay here and prove your worth if it means so much to you? Why must you leave? Your idea of what is noble is…hard to bear.”

“Merlin—”

“If you say you must go, then go. But you must promise me there will come a time when you return to Camelot.”

“I promise on my honour and all that I am. I know in my heart that this is the right choice. Life is not all love and desire. I must consider what is right for the greater good.” Lancelot faced Merlin. “You’ve done more than I ever believed one person would do for someone like me.”

“For someone like you, I’d do anything. I…love you, Lancelot. I wanted to tell you. But…I know you love Gwen and she loves you. And I’m happy for you.”

Lancelot’s mouth open and closed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Thank you, Merlin. While I am flattered, I can’t return your affections.”

“I…understand. Until we meet again, Sir Lancelot.”

“Someday I’ll earn that title,” Lancelot said. He dismounted from his horse and they shook hands. Without warning Lancelot swung his other arm around to embrace Merlin. 

“Take care of Arthur. He’s a good man. I hope Arthur will understand your true worth and bring our vision of Camelot that much closer.”

“He will. I have faith in him.” Someday, Merlin would tell Arthur his biggest secret. All the times Merlin had saved him and how important Arthur was to him. 

Merlin’s heart stung as Lancelot rode into the forest, growing farther and farther away, but it felt like a new beginning. 

He could move on.

*

The next day, Merlin was awoken by someone gently jostling his shoulder.

Blinking slowly, Arthur’s grinning face came into view.

“Come,” he said.

“What time is it?” Merlin craned his neck to look up at the window. “It’s not even dawn.” Birds chirped and warbled outside.

“It will be soon. Hurry.” Arthur’s hair was still ruffled and his tunic remained crinkled.

Merlin’s heart lurched. Arthur had never done anything like this before. 

They now both stood atop the battlements, overlooking the hills and trees. A pale black sky, ready to break into colour, spanned out before them. 

“Looks like you had a proper good-bye with Lancelot.”

“What? I guess I did.” Merlin scratched the stone of the parapet with his fingernails. He didn’t know if he should tell Arthur he’d finally told Lancelot his feelings. 

“And the hug?”

“Oh—that was—”

“A very nice hug, yes. I saw.” Arthur sounded annoyed. 

“What, do you want one?”

“No!” Arthur looked scandalised. “I do not.”

Merlin was starting to think maybe Arthur should be more honest with his feelings. 

Before Arthur could protest, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur, who grunted in surprise. “Thank you. For what you did for Lancelot.”

Arthur’s hands stayed awkwardly midair. He coughed uncomfortably. “I know how much he means to you.”

“Who knows if I’ll see him again. Poor Gwen. I thought he’d stay for her.” Merlin’s face nestled into the fabric of Arthur’s tunic. It smelled like the odd mixture of cloves, lavender, and sweat. It smelt like home. 

“It’s all about timing,” Arthur said, his voice strained. “He’ll come again, if it’s meant to be.”

“When did you become the expert on love and destiny?” Merlin asked. He looked up at Arthur, their faces quite close. Merlin was thoroughly enjoying their contact. They’d never been this close, but now that he’d experienced the warmth and smells and cosiness of it all, he wouldn’t mind doing this more often. 

“One’s first love usually doesn’t work out,” Arthur said, looking away, but still not breaking the embrace. “Take me for instance. I’d met a princess when I was young, only seven. She was fourteen. I’d immediately fancied her—she was beautiful, kind, and wise—but because she was only visiting and already had plans to be betrothed to another…I let her go.”

“I think our circumstances are different, Arthur.” Merlin sighed. “But let’s say you were both older. As old as you are now. Would you have gone after her?”

“No. Maybe…”

Merlin waited.

Arthur face grew serious. “Sometimes—though I usually don’t find myself saying this too often, mind you—destiny gets in the way. We each have our own path, something we’re meant to do—and ours were different.”

“But if you truly loved her?”

Arthur turned his head and looked at Merlin. “I would have followed her to the ends of the earth.”

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine as Arthur finally wrapped one arm around Merlin’s shoulders and rested the other on the small of Merlin’s back. 

“But,” Arthur continued, “who I am, what I must do, what I _cannot_ do—those are difficult obstacles to face. I’ve always believed that one should marry for love. For a prince such as myself, no matter how much I love another, it might be impossible.”

“What’s the point of being next in line to the throne if you can’t choose who to marry?” Merlin usually isn’t so forthright, especially with matters of the kingdom, but if he can confide in Arthur about Lancelot, maybe things can change. Beginning with this. 

“When I become king, I do want to change the law,” Arthur admitted. 

“Then change it,” Merlin said, his grip on Arthur tightening ever-so-slightly. “Camelot will not be just any kingdom. It will be yours to rule as you deem fit.”

After a moment of silence, Arthur laughed in his hair, the sound clear and bright and the feeling warm and comforting. “You are a puzzle, Merlin. Funny I’ve never told a soul about how I feel. Except for you.”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but this is probably the longest hug I’ve ever had in my life.”

Arthur gasped and jolted backward, hands comically raised in the air like he’d dropped a priceless vase.

Merlin smirked. “Longer than any I’ve had with my mother, I’d suspect.”

“I—we—you,” Arthur babbled on, mouth gaping like a suffocating fish. 

“It’s almost like we’re friends.” Merlin ducked his head to hide his grin at Arthur’s frown.

Arthur eyebrows crinkled. Then he suddenly stood straight and regained his princely smugness once more. “Almost. Keep at it and maybe we’ll get there.”

“Someday?” Merlin gave Arthur a sideways glance. 

“Someday,” Arthur said. 

They stood side by side as the sun broke the horizon, the trees and hills ablaze with light and splendour. 

Merlin couldn’t wait for someday. With Arthur by his side, he knew he’d get there.


End file.
